


memories of a fading landscape

by obelus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s05e22 Swan Song, Gen, Oneshot, Swan Song, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4166430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obelus/pseuds/obelus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5x22, except Dean has synesthesia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	memories of a fading landscape

**Author's Note:**

> listen to O by Coldplay while reading uvu
> 
> synesthesia is a neurological phenomenon I’ve found myself quite interested in and thought it would be interesting to write a fic involving it. since I’ve only had the wiki page as reference, I hope that I won’t offend any synesthetes with this oneshot (sorry in advance if it turns out to be complete and utter bullshit).

For as long as he can remember, Dean has been able to see sounds. He isn’t sure why. Maybe he somehow swallowed some of Azazel’s blood on the night of the fire. Maybe it’s just one more screwed up thing about Dean. The strange thing is, though, he doesn’t see every sound he hears. He doesn’t notice strangers’ voices, can’t see the sex sounds of his one night stands. He doesn’t know what color the cop’s wailing sirens are as she chases the Impala far away from her small, insignificant piece of territory. He does, however see the dark red wisp of vapor when his brother mutters a curse under his breath in the passenger seat.  
Whatever. It doesn’t really matter anyway.  
Because, when Sam’s hands, _his Sam’s_ hands, shove him with supernatural force into the windshield of the Impala, when pain explodes unanimously with shards of glass in his back, when he promises Dean the threat of broken bones, when he pulls back to fulfill it, there’s nothing. No color, because he doesn’t know this _thing._ A stark, empty, silence and the wind whistling in his ears.  
It feels like he’s lost a limb. No, like he’s lost the whole inside of his body. He’s hollow. It doesn’t matter.  
But Dean needs to see Sam one more time, just once, needs it with the energy of a thousand stars dying in a single second. Needs Sam to know that, no matter what happens, it’ll be okay. He won’t die alone.  
Doesn’t know that Sam is hearing every word he’s saying. Can’t see him screaming and crying for him to get away.  
Dean knows he’s going to die when Lucifer reaches back for one last strike, muscles bunching, a cold, violent, _angry_ gleam surfacing in those dull, hard hazel stones he calls eyes. They aren’t Sam’s anymore. This is a completely different being he’s looking at.  
Then that warped, alien faces twists in pain, as if fighting a migraine and there’s only one thought in Dean’s mind: _Sam._  
He sees the exact moment that Sam surfaces, when the haze clears and Sam’s his own again. As Sam stumbles away from him, staring at his bloodied fist like it’s an abomination, Dean knows he should be happy, he should be fucking _ecstatic,_ but Dean’s mouth doesn’t even twitch. He’s empty; there’s a yawning hole inside of him where the promise of his brother should be. He knows what Sam’s going to do, what he needs to, _should_ do.  
But all Sam’s desperate, grey-yellow reassurances won’t convince him. Dean knows he should say something back ( _he’s_ the one who’s supposed to be comforting Sam, to be making it _okay, why can’t he do his job?_ ) but then Sam’s gone and the bleak, faded cemetery around is mocking him, because this _was_ a suicide mission, but he couldn’t even do _that_ right.  
He wants to die, because what’s the point without Sam? Fighting the good fight? _Yeah, right._ He faintly remembers himself saying something along the lines of, _“Then let it end!”_ (the words falling black and heavy from his mouth) because for him, it had already ended. Sam was his world. It doesn’t matter.  
But, he’d made a promise to Sam. That he’d _go find Lisa, have an apple pie life._ That seems impossible right about now, but he’ll do it for Sam. If it’s one last thing he can do for his baby brother, then Dean will try. He just hopes that, when he dies (however soon that may be), Sam will be there waiting for him, with warm orange words of welcome and that million-watt grin just for Dean.

**Author's Note:**

> didn't want to spoil the story, but just fyi, exclusive synesthesia is NOT a thing (as far as I know).


End file.
